


What I Did For Love

by wendalee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 06:12:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendalee/pseuds/wendalee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written from both the perspectives of Sherlock and John in the final moments of the Reichenbach Fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What I Did For Love

_Wish me luck – the same to you._

_But I can’t regret what I did for love._

 

Sherlock stood there on the ledge, staring down at John. His best friend. The only man he ever loved. It was almost as if his heart had been ripped out a few moments ago, when he realized that the only way out of it, the only way that John would live, would be for him to sacrifice himself.

 

If he calmly walked out of Bart’s, John would end up with a bullet in his head and Sherlock’s main reason for living would be gone.

 

But if Sherlock did what Moriarty had planned for him, then John’s sole reason for living would be gone as well.

 

It was what people would refer to as a ‘no-win situation.’

 

_It’s as if we always knew…_

 

For some reason, Sherlock always had the sinking feeling that his life would be a short one. It’s one reason – the main reason – why he guarded his heart so. He rarely let anyone in. He didn’t let anyone see the real him.

 

Until John walked into his life, that is.

 

It was a gradual opening of his heart, but once he did it, he was so glad. Because it was so worth it – not just to love and feel love in return, but to wait for the right person to feel the love for. Because it was passionate and it was real and it was always there. Good days, bad days, he could always come home to John.

 

He could always count on John.

 

With trembling fingers, he hit the speed dial No. 2 on his phone and listened to the voice of the man that he was saving by completely destroying his will to live.

 

_Gone._

_Love is never gone._

 

When John saw Sherlock’s name appear on his phone, his heart leapt. Maybe there was hope. Maybe they could get out of all of this complete and utter mess and things could just go back to normal.

 

He was willing to move. He was willing to do anything to get Sherlock the hell away from Moriarty. _Anything._

 

But the second he heard the words, “This is my note. That’s what people do, isn’t it?” his heart stopped. All of those thoughts of being able to hold onto to Sherlock for the rest of his life evaporated, along with what felt like all of the air in the world.

 

All he could think was, “NO.” In vain, he tried to just keep Sherlock on the phone. But then he saw him toss the phone aside. Screaming was no use. And over the side he went.

 

_As we travel on_

_Love’s what we’ll remember_

 

Mrs. Hudson had dragged him to the graveyard on that day. John didn’t want to go. John didn’t want any part of it. The aftermath on the street, the funeral, everything had been a blur and John had only been semi-aware of everything.

 

But this, seeing Sherlock’s name actually on a gravestone, had a permanent finality to it. Sherlock was…dead. Dead. He shuddered just thinking the word. He couldn’t even bring himself to speak until Mrs. Hudson walked away. He didn’t want the older woman to see him break down.

 

He rambled on, not even really thinking about much of what he was saying. Sherlock’s last words were on constant repeat in his head. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that that was the last time he would ever talk to Sherlock. Even seeing the grave marker still didn’t completely hit it home for him, as he eventually just broke down, pleading with this inanimate object to not let it have happened, to not let his best friend have died.

 

“Just stop it. Stop this.” He was speaking to Sherlock almost as much as he was speaking to himself. Stop wishing for miracles, John. Stop blubbering over this man who meant more to him than anyone else had in his life. Stop thinking about him. Just stop. He straightened his shoulders, nodded his head with a soldier’s finality, and walked out of the graveyard after Mrs. Hudson.

 

But he didn’t stop.

 

_We did what we had to do._

_Won’t forget, can’t regret what I did for love._

**Author's Note:**

> Title and lyrics within from "What I Did For Love" from the musical A Chorus Line.


End file.
